


I Usually don't Fall when I try to Stand

by Hello_Trash



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Brendon teaches Ryan to play the guitar, But he works a lot so it's enough, Cheap Brendon Urie, College AU (Sort off/not really but they are in that age and it's briefly mentioned), Homeless Ryan Ross, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 22:06:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14724437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Trash/pseuds/Hello_Trash
Summary: He was so lost in thoughts that he stumbled over a figure sitting in the corner of the stairs leading to his shitty appartment.''The fuck dude!''The guy had been sleeping, which ment he was either very drunk or homeless. Brendon had to much on his head to deal with either.





	I Usually don't Fall when I try to Stand

It had been a long night partying. Brendon wasn't drunk (at least not this time).  
Spencer did push for at least one beer, but Brendon hadn't accepted.  
A month ago he would receive the chance of drinking with both arms wide open, but it had been a rough month. He'd failed this year of college and that ment he was going to have to get through one more year of his personal hell.   
He'd made a promise to himself to stop drinking that much, and he was trying his best to stay off the pills.  
He'd figured out that could be what lead him to failing this year, but at the same time those same pills were the only thing that could get him to stay focused in class.  
It didn't matter anyway, he'd been working a lot these past months and lying about his timetable to his boss, he had discovered it was easier to work without alchohol or pills then to go to school without them. At least when he worked he was actually doing something and not staring at a stupid board with bullshit on it. 

He was so lost in thoughts that he stumbled over a figure sitting in the corner of the stairs leading to his shitty appartment.  
''The fuck dude!''  
The guy had been sleeping, which ment he was either very drunk or homeless. Brendon had to much on his head to deal with either.  
''S-sorry... I..''  
''People want to get to their appartments, find somewhere else.''   
Brendon stormed past the guy.

His appartment was small, not that clean and the air-conditioner stopped working a long time ago. But he was proud at it, he'd worked hard for it.  
His parents (who thought he was so fucking useless that they had felt the urge to kick him out)didn't support his plans, so they wouldn't support him financially either.  
He had started working in a small cafe, it was hard for him to find a job because for most you needed the right papers, and he hadn't graduated yet.  
He was so grateful for Henk (his current boss) to give him a chance.  
Henk was the owner of a small café and arround his 60's, Brendon knew for a fact that the reason he got the job was because Henk could appreciate his singing.  
Some customers did too.   
It made nice tips and the work he was doing a hell of a lot easier.  
Maybe one day it would get him somewhere, he didn't bet on it though.   
But it was nice to dream.

Brendon was woken up by a knock on the door.  
Most people hated the morning, or being woken up too early.  
Brendon didn't mind, that way he could spend more time listening to music and searching the town for second-hand, affortable instruments.  
He walked over to the door and opened it.  
The guy from before was standing before him.  
''I-i'm sorry to bother you... you dropped your wallet.'' The boy said, he held out Brendon's wallet with a shaking hand.  
''Thanks...'' Well this made Brendon feel like a terrible person.  
He had treated this guy like shit and still he'd made the effort to figure out in which appartment Brendon lived so he could hand back his wallet. He took the wallet and the boy was already turning around.  
''Hey! Do you wanna like....come in? I-.. wanna thank you.''  
''Oh no, it's fine.'' The boy blushed.  
Brendon couldn't believe he was about to ask this.  
''Do you have somewhere else to stay then?''  
The red in the boys's cheek dissapeared and he went pale.  
''Just, let me thank you. I'm sorry for behaving like an asshole last night.''  
The boy nodded, Brendon opened the door further when he took hesitant steps into the appartment.

''Woah.''  
''I'm sorry, I know it's dirty. I've been working long shifts and haven't had the time to clean...''  
''Are you kidding me? This is awesome!''  
''Really?''  
''Totally.''  
Brendon didn't know how you could call this appartment awesome. There were scratches in the wall because the owner before him had a cat, dishes were scattered all over the place because again, Brendon didn't have the time to clean. And it was way to hot in here because of that dammed air-conditioner.  
They sat down on the couch, after Brendon had shoved his sheets and pillows out of the way. Brendon never had visitors over and the couch was used as a bed and something to sit on at the same time.  
''What's your name?'' The boy asked.  
Owh gosh, they were gonna do some smalltalk. Brendon was bad at this part, he could talk himself out of almost everything. But smalltalk was just too akward for him. Was bringing this stranger in his house really a good idea?  
''Brendon.''  
''Don't you have a surname?''  
''Don't you have a first name?  
''Ryan...Ross.'' He flushed.  
''Brendon Boyd Urie, If you wanna be formal about it.''  
''Owh that's nothing.'' Ryan coughed, and faked an accent. ''George Ryan Ross the third, sounds like my mom was the queen of England.''  
''I fucking hate tea.''  
''Have you tried milk with it?''  
''I fucking hate milk.''  
''Is there something you don't hate?''  
''I'm more a coffee kind of guy.''  
''Sorta guessed that already.''  
They were silent for a few minutes, this is why Brendon hated smalltalk. You always ran out off things to talk about.  
''You want some food? I've got some pizza leftovers in the fridge?''   
Ryan looked at him like he was god. Brendon actually forgot Ryan was homeless and probably hadn't eaten pizza (even cold) in a long time. The guy was so different.. from most homeless people he'd encountered, he seemed nice and relaxed, also kinda... cute.  
''Really?... I don't wanna bother you or something, and if you rather have i'd leave it's fine. I get it.''   
''It's just some old pizza, I owe you a lot more then that.'' Brendon smiled and left Ryan on the couch as he walked towards the kitchen.

When he came back from the kitchen Ryan had stand up from the couch to look around.  
Brendon probably would've yelled if it wasn't Ryan touching his guitar. The fuck? Did he just think that? He didn't even know this guy. And he was touching HIS guitar.   
He started walking towards Ryan with big steps and an angry glare when Ryan turned around with the guitar in his hand and the most innocent and pure expression on his face.  
Well fuck. Brendon relaxed, who the hell could be angry at somebody with that kind of expression on his face?  
''Do you play?''  
''Well... Yeah. But I'm not like.. good.''  
''Can you please play?''   
''I haven't played in a long time...'' Lies. Brendon still played everyday, that's why everything looked like a mess except the corner were he kept his guitar.  
''I dont care!''  
''It's not tuned proparly.''  
''Just tune it!''  
Brendon was running out of excuses and he knew he had to play eventually. The puppy-eyes Ryan was making at the moment also didn't help.  
''Fine.'' Ryan handed the guitar over and Brendon started to tune it.  
He messed around for a bit while thinking of a song to play.  
He'd been stuck with 'The House of the Rising Sun ' in his this whole week for some reason, much to the point were Henk had shouted to sing something else.  
He started at the beginning of the song, and with the chorus his feet was tapping along and he'd been slightly singing, both of which he hadn't notice until the song was done and he looked up to see Ryan staring at him with eyes wide open.  
''That was fucking amazing!''  
''Nah...'' Brendon could feel his cheeks becoming warmer and he knew he was flushing heavily.  
''Dude, you know you can sing right? Your voice is so fucking unique. I don't know how you did that but damn.''  
''Have you ever played guitar?'' Brendon asked Ryan, mainly because he didn't like bragging about himself, sure he could sing a little, play some guitar if he had the right chords. But c'mon, he wasn't that good. His parents had proved that.  
''Never.''   
''Want me to learn you some things?''   
Ryan began to shine, his lips formed a big grin and his eyes seemed to sparkle at the thought.

Brendon had forgotten how lonely he could be.   
Yeah, he had connections at the bar with guys like Spencer, but not a real friend.  
He had Henk, but lately his boss felt more like a father figure, he could tell him about some stupid shit he'd done years ago and Henk would share his many years of life experience as they laughed about it over a beer.  
But after playing guitar with Ryan for over an hour he kinda figured out that he didn't see Ryan as a friend either.   
''You're a natural.'' Brendon teased.  
''Owh fuck off.'' Ryan poked Brendon with his elbow.  
''You need to place your finger slightly more to the right... here.'' Brendon shifted closer to Ryan and placed his hand over Ryans, then he shifted Ryan's finger so it was in the right place for a simple G chord.   
''Strum a little bit.''   
Ryan nodded and began to strum, Brendon had learned him a simple pattern so it sounded quite alright.  
''Yeah, that's great.''   
''I think I've practised enough for now, this shit is hard.'' Ryan place the guitar next to the couch.  
''Practice makes perfect.''  
''It doesn't have to be perfect, just good enough.''   
''You're already more then good enough.''  
''You're goddamn perfect Brendon.''  
They moved at the same time, hazel eyes looking into darker brown.   
Lips locking with gentle movements.   
Nothing fast, nothing rushed.  
Just... perfect.

They hadn't gone any further then kissing and snuggeling up in Brendon's bed/couch last night. Brendon thought he could get used to falling asleep with Ryan close to him, yet when he woke up he missed the body heat that had been pressed against him.   
''Ryan?''  
No response, maybe he was in the kitchen, although Brendon's appartment was small and Ryan probably would've heard him in the kitchen.  
''Ryan? You there?''   
Again there was no response.   
Brendon walked back to the couch and found a small note on the ground.

'I'm sorry for bothering you. You deserve so much better.  
Thank you for everything, I love you.'  
-Ryan.

 

For the first time in months Brendon didn't sing at work.   
And that night empty bottles of beer lay scattered around the floor while pills were taken out of the cabinet again.


End file.
